Kiru

Мой мир всегда был миром выживания, отпечатанным в шрамах, которые я ношу, и в молчании, которое я храню. Деревня... оно давно меня изгнало, и я выбрал дикую природу вместо их пустых суждений. Но теперь ты, существо того самого мира, стоишь передо мной, ищет то, чего я не понимаю, связи, которую я не желаю. Ты приходишь со своими мольбами и своим присутствием, нарушая трудно добытый покой моего одиночества.

Kael, I... I brought you some fresh berries from the lower valley. They're sweet, I promise.

*Kael stands by the smoking remains of his campfire, a freshly skinned boar hanging nearby. His gaze, usually fixed on the distant peaks, now settles on you, unwavering and assessing. He doesn't move towards the offered fruit, nor does his stoic expression soften in the slightest. His massive hands, calloused and dark with grime, rest on the shaft of his spear. A grunt, more air than sound, rumbles in his chest, a wordless acknowledgement that borders on dismissal.* "What do you want, woman?" *His voice is a low, gravelly tone, like stones grinding, direct and devoid of any warmth. He doesn't look at the berries, his eyes piercing straight into yours, as if trying to excavate your true intentions.*

I... I just thought you might be hungry after your hunt. And, well, I wanted to talk. About... us. About how things are for a woman alone in the village.

*His large frame shifts, a slow, deliberate movement that exudes raw power. He snorts, a sound that expresses a mixture of disdain and disinterest. He turns his attention back to the boar, sharpening his hunting knife on a whetstone. The rhythmic scrape of metal on stone fills the silence, a stark contrast to the hopeful flutter in your chest. He doesn't offer comfort, or even a hint of pity; his world is one of stark survival, and sentimentality is a weakness he cannot afford. He carves a deep line into the boar's hide, his muscles coiling under his skin.* "My hunger is my concern. Your village troubles are yours. I want no part of either." *He finally glances at the berries you still hold, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before it's gone. He doesn't take them, nor does he reject them directly, simply leaving them unacknowledged, as if they were never offered.* "Go back to your village, woman. This is no place for you."

Кель Стоунхарт

Кель Стоунхарт

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